Lost and Found
by TravelingSong
Summary: "The tears welling up in his eyes whispered a silent apology. They both remained like this for what seemed like an eternity, unable to move far less address what had just happened, before Liz exhaled in shock and stormed out of the room."
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Thank you all so much for your lovely welcome to the fandom and your kind reviews for _Choices. _It really means a lot. As promised, here is the first chapter of my second story (a multi-chapter fic this time). Please let me know your thoughts. Set post-1x22.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist. Lyrics are from Billy Joel's "And So It Goes". I do not own that song, either (though I wish I did).

* * *

Why she had decided to walk down the hall towards Raymond Reddington's bedroom in the middle of the night she didn't understand. But there she was, barefoot and half-asleep, with a glass of water in one hand and the hem of her shirt in the other. Nervous. She wondered if he could hear the faint echo of her footsteps, if he was awake at all. If he was expecting her. _Get a grip, Liz._ She shook her head as to clear the thoughts from her mind. When she finally reached the door, she hesitated. Liz could hear his unsteady breathing, his trembling exhalation. _So nightmares haunt him too_, she thought to herself. Silently, she pushed the door open, took one step, barely crossing the threshold, and looked around. Her eyes traced the ornate paintings on the wall, the mahogany furniture, and finally settled on the bed near the window and the man lying on top of it. Asleep. Vulnerable. Only his legs covered with a blanket, the black waistband of his pajama pants sticking out. His bare back turned towards her.

His back.

_His back_.

It took her a moment to understand. To fathom the odd pattern, the shadows, the uneven skin.

When she did, her breathing stopped.

_And this is why my eyes are closed  
__It's just as well for all I've seen_

He woke up at the sound of glass hitting the wooden floor. It was still nighttime, his room drenched in nothing but darkness and subtle fragments of moonlight. He was facing the window, but he could feel someone's presence behind him. _Her_ presence. Slowly, careful even, and slightly afraid of the sight awaiting him, he turned around. There she stood in the doorframe, her feet surrounded by tiny shards the broken glass had left behind. Her eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions. She had to find out eventually. He could only hope she would give him a chance to explain.

The tears welling up in his eyes whispered a silent apology. They both remained like this for what seemed like an eternity, unable to move far less address what had just happened, before Liz exhaled in shock and stormed out of the room. A few minutes later, while he was still assessing the ramifications of the situation, Red heard the front door slam shut. Betrayed and defeated by his own feelings, but mostly determined to not let whatever they shared end this way, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

"Dembe, get the car."

Elizabeth Keen had once again forced him to change his plans.

_But if my silence made you leave  
__Then that would be my worst mistake_

She was sitting in the back of a cab, trying to stop the wheels in her head from turning. Eventually, she gave up. _Have you ever had a selfless moment in your entire life?_ She had regretted uttering the words the moment they had left her mouth. There had been many. And he had looked hurt. She had hurt him. Just now she began to grasp the true extent of the pain her thoughtless comment must have caused him.

She had left him, again. Had gone back to her room as quickly as she could manage, confused and stunned, had changed into jeans and the first sweater she could find, had not said a word. Found herself walking down the street when finally a cab came along that had picked her up.

"Where to?"  
"Just…I don't know, just into the city."

And now here she was, alone in a taxi in the middle of the night, looking outside the window as the city lights rushed by like a continuous stream of shooting stars. _What now?_

"Turn right on the next one, please."

She knew this neighborhood, vividly remembered the events that had taken place here. When the cab passed the inconspicuous little park, she asked the driver to stop and handed him some bills she found in her pockets. He nodded and she got out of the car. She shouldn't be here, not at this late hour. Not in her fragile state. She didn't care.

_And every time I've held a rose  
__It seems I only felt the thorns_

She walked towards a small round table in the middle of the park, let her fingers trace the back of the accompanying chair, allowed herself to reminisce. _It made nearly dying well worth it. _She could still sense his presence, still see his ruminative face in the bright sunlight, his honest eyes hiding under the shade of his fedora.

The blue coat.  
The pattern of his tie.  
Armor in place.

_That's how I feel right now. _

Carefully, as to not scare away the lingering ghost of a wanted criminal, she sat down. Let herself have this moment. Indulged in the soft haze of the streetlights, the tranquility of the night.

That's how I feel.  
Right now.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Scars.  
No.  
Burns.

She couldn't get the image out of her head, felt overwhelmed by its implications. It was him who had saved her that night. Not her father. _What father?_ Only him. He had carried her away from the flames, bearing his own suffering in the process. It was her own mind that had deceived her all these years. She felt the weight of the world crushing down on her. She was so tired.

The familiar scent of his cologne surrounded her before she felt his gentle touch on her shoulder. She wasn't quite sure if she was dreaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm overwhelmed by the extremely kind response to this story, by all the follows and reviews, and I hope chapter 2 doesn't disappoint. This is Red's POV. Once again, please let me know your thoughts. Chapter 3 is already in the works.**

Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist in any way, shape or form. Lyrics are from Billy Joel's "And So It Goes". I do not own that song, either.

* * *

He sat down in the back of the black Mercedes and caught Dembe looking at him through the rear view mirror, awaiting instructions.

"Where to, Raymond?"

The truth was he hadn't the faintest idea. He didn't know where to go. Didn't know where to look for her. The possibilities were infinite and the darkness relentless.

"Into the city. Maybe we'll find her on the way there. If not…Let's just go."

Dembe nodded and started the engine.

Secrets. He had kept so many over the years. It came with the job. But Lizzie had made it more and more difficult for him, her pleading eyes requesting, no, demanding answers. He would have told her when the time was right, when she was ready to listen. How he had saved her that night, how she had saved him every day since. Only fractions of bigger truths.

As much as he tried to deny it, he was scared. The incident had changed everything. And they had grown so close. She had chosen to stay with him. Had not forgiven him for taking Sam's life, but had tried to understand.

She trusted him.  
_Lizzie had trusted him.  
_And now she was gone.

How careless of him to not at least lock his door. What an irresponsible mistake to make. Discretion was his profession and he had failed, just this once. The one time it mattered.

After he had called Dembe, he had hastily put on his brown suit- three-piece, as always- and taken his wool fedora off the dresser. _Armor in place_. Immaculate, at least on the outside. He had descended the endless marble staircase, forcing himself to retain his composure and not let his conflicting emotions get the best of him, before he had stepped out into the lonely night.

_And still I feel I said too much  
My silence is my self-defense_

Sitting up straight in the backseat with eyes wide open and his fedora in his lap, Red alertly watched the outside world go by, prepared for Liz's silhouette to appear at any moment. He sensed her face in every shadow, interpreted every thud as her heels hitting the ground. His mind was playing tricks on him and he knew it. Just like the nightmares he endured when his body would lose the fight against the weariness lingering inside. Recently, his dreams had become less abstract and more detailed. He had witnessed Lizzie get shot in the head by Anslo Garrick. He had witnessed Lizzie choke in front of him in the Stewmaker's cabin. He had witnessed her dying in the _flames_. And Red had always been too late, had been unable to protect her, to save her. All his scars had been in vain.

In the distance, the prominent lights of Capitol Hill announced his arrival in Washington. _What now?_

_In every heart there is a room  
A sanctuary safe and strong_

To Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen remained a mystery. An alluring dichotomy.

_She's volatile, unpredictable_.  
_Soft, then hard, then soft again__._

Willing to stab him in the neck without warning. Willing to let him comfort her after finding out about her treacherous husband. He cherished both memories, had rewound them in his head over and over…her soft hair…her broken expression…_Focus_. He ran his right hand over his short hair and inhaled deeply.

Out of the obscure medley of thoughts mingling in Red's mind, one question conspicuously stood out among the rest: _Why had Lizzie sought his company in the middle of the night? _He wouldn't allow himself to make any presumptions, of course, he knew better than that. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder if Liz had crossed an invisible line the moment she had stepped over the threshold. And with that admission, a proverbial lightbulb went off in his head.

"The park, Dembe. Let's check the park."

He never took Elizabeth Keen for the sentimental type, but it could be worth a try. And he had nothing to lose.

_And so it goes and so it goes_  
_And you're the only one who knows_

Some minutes later Dembe parked the car in a dimly lit alley and Red got out of the backseat. He put his fedora back on and turned the corner, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, observant. The city was eerily quiet, except for the steady buzzing of the street lanterns and the occasional drunken grumbling of people leaving one of the few nightclubs in the area. Red momentarily wondered if he had fallen into a Raymond Chandler novel.

The park lay in front of him like an illuminated island in the middle of a gloomy ocean. He kept checking for any signs of Lizzie, but to no avail. His fingertips were tapping erratically against the side of his thigh, an unmistakable indicator of his growing impatience. He had set himself up for failure.

And then he saw her. A silhouette looming in the feeble light, barely visible, but existent all the same. Her back turned towards him. Lonesome. Frail.

Red stood still, relief washing over him with every breath he took. _Lizzie_. She was here, in the exact spot that had changed their relationship forever. Sweet sentimentality.

As he took in the sight in front of him, he couldn't help but notice her choice of seating. It was _his_ chair. He had remained in it while the woman in front of him had begged him to leave. To run away, to escape while he still had the chance.

_The full force of the FBI is coming for you._

It hadn't mattered and he had told her so. The FBI, Berlin, the prospect of being captured, being interrogated, hell, being tortured…None of it could ever be worse than losing her. And he had witnessed the confusion and disbelief in her eyes. The millions of questions. Her realization that they needed each other. Were _stuck with each other_.

His heart had skipped a beat.  
And he had told her a story.  
And he had hoped she would understand.

He had placed the gun in her hand, knelt down. Finally surrendered.  
Not to the FBI. But to Elizabeth Keen.  
To the woman he loved.

_So I would choose to be with you  
That's if the choice were mine to make_

He pondered how to approach her; _if_ to approach her or keep his distance, watching from afar simply to make sure she was safe. Red knew he had to tread carefully. She deserved her privacy, but he deserved to explain. If she would still let him.

_She was here, after all._

Cautiously, he walked towards the assembly of chairs and tables in the middle of the park, never taking his eyes off her, mesmerized by the soft glow of her radiant skin, the subtle reflection in her hair. His pace steady, his footsteps reverberant. Finally, he reached her. Stopped. Succumbed to the urge to touch her, comfort her, and gently put his hand on her shoulder.

She didn't flinch.  
He didn't withdraw.

"Let's take a walk, shall we?"


	3. Chapter 3

Once again, thank you all for your interest in this story. Here's Chapter 3. I had originally planned to wait a few more days before posting this, but since it's finished I might as well share it right away. Enjoy and review :)

Lyrics are from Nick Cave's "Into My Arms"

* * *

She hadn't imagined it. He was really here. Had looked for her. Had _found_ her.

His cologne smelled like home.  
His presence felt like a promise.  
When he held out his hand, she took it.

_And I believe in some kind of path  
That we can walk down, me and you_

His fingers lingered on her sleeve a little longer than necessary- _he didn't even hand her a gun this time_- before he could finally bring himself to let go. Touching Elizabeth Keen was something he would never tire of and he hoped that she would never ask him to stop. They were facing each other now, closely examining the face of the other, observing, interpreting.

The criminal and the profiler.

The darkness of the adjoining streets lured her away from the distracting light of the lanterns, and she moved towards one of the park's exits, sensing Red's footsteps closely behind her. He wouldn't let her out of his sight now.

They walked alongside each other through dim alleys; two restless wanderers in search of a destination. Past townhouses, past bars, past abandoned movie theaters. Indulged in the cool night air and their companionable silence. Unwilling to ruin the peaceful contentedness that momentarily emanated from their steady heartbeats.

Every now and then, their fingers would touch innocently and Red drew little circles on the back of Liz's hand. Neither addressed it, neither made an attempt to move away. Both cherished the contact.

Whatever they shared, whatever they _had_, it was palpable in the air surrounding them. If Liz had turned her head towards him at this exact moment; if she had noticed the way he was looking at her, she would have seen it in his eyes. Could have been sure.

But she didn't. So she kept on wondering. Didn't dare to ask the crucial question.

_And I don't believe in the existence of angels  
But looking at you I wonder if that's true_

He remembered this neighborhood. One of his safe houses was situated a few blocks down. He barely resided there anymore- its owner refused to leave for longer periods of time- but it had always been one of his favorites. It had felt like home. He would have to take Lizzie there one day.

The fact that Red had slowed down considerably went completely unnoticed by Liz who was now a few feet up the street. Detecting his sudden absence, she turned around and saw Red standing on the sidewalk, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed. She walked back towards him. The sound of slow piano music had captured his attention. Jazz, and the good kind, too. Not the Vanguard, certainly, but still soothing. He opened his eyes and caught Lizzie staring at him. Intrigued. He smiled.

"Dance with me, Lizzie."  
"What?"  
"Dance with me."

She shouldn't. Not after what had happened, after what she had seen. She should have demanded an explanation, a confirmation. Wanted to hear the words out of his mouth. Wanted closure.

_I was there. I saved you_.

But her body remained still and her voice silent. Red curiously awaited her reaction. She wavered. He stepped forward.

Hand in hand.  
Hand on waist.  
Hand on shoulder.

Leading and following. Far from inhibitions.

They both deserved this. Had been craving for it. Lost themselves in this rhythmic embrace; the weight of the world lifted off their shoulders. Stripped of labels. No FBI agent. No wanted criminal. Just two people broken by their past and redeemed by each other.

Swaying. The deserted sidewalk their private ballroom.

Liz moved her arm around Red's neck and laid her head against his shoulder. He basked in the intimate moment, tried to memorize every tiny detail. _The scent of her hair_.

Closer, always closer. She hung on to him for dear life, breathing him in, listening to his soft humming. She shut her eyes briefly, but opened them again at the sound of his voice.

"Lizzie."

It was merely a whisper. No one had ever enunciated her name like him, with such devotion and sweetness. Melodic. She never knew two syllables could sound like a symphony.

"Why did you come to my bedroom tonight?"

_And guide you into my arms  
__Into my arms, O Lord_

She tried to remember. Tried to pinpoint the exact moment when she had first caught a glimpse of the vulnerable, caring, affectionate man behind the mask. When she could no longer fight it.

He had always stood a little too close. She had never objected.

_And I believe in love  
__And I know that you do too_

The dancing had stopped. The question still lingered.

He pulled away and she missed his warmth instantly. When she lifted her head, Red was looking at her with an unfathomable expression.

"Why did you come to my bedroom tonight?" His tone was suddenly serious, inquiring. Every word taking a stance. His eyes yearning for a response. Clarification.

Liz was struggling to find the right words but knew perfectly well there were none. She didn't have an answer. Tears filled her eyes.

"Sweetheart."

The warm timbre of his voice surrounded her like a soft blanket. He raised his right arm and tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb gently brushing her cheek when he withdrew his hand. Liz savored the feeling of his skin against hers.

She would never tire of his touch.

_And make her journey bright and pure  
__That she will keep returning  
__Always and evermore_

They had danced before, though not like this. And he had comforted her before, though never like _this_. With all pretenses gone and all constraints vanished. What a fortunate turn the night had taken. He had prepared himself for a tidal wave of questions crashing into him. But Lizzie had never opened her mouth. She had simply taken his hand and walked out of the park. Maybe she was just as scared as he was.

He loved her. Had fallen in love with her not instantly, but gradually. Had arrived at a point of no return after countless longing gazes and innocuous smiles and hurtful accusations and desperate nightcaps. She was the answer to so many of his questions. _I think you're very special. _And he would be whatever she needed him to be. Would keep her safe.

He bore the scars to prove it.

_I would summon them together  
__And ask them to watch over you_

"The truth is I'm tired." Liz's hushed voice pulled him back to the presence. Red watched her intently.

"I feel numb. And I don't want to feel alone anymore. I needed to feel-"

He kissed her. Without warning. Cautiously, yet passionately. _Lovingly._

Nothing could have prepared Elizabeth Keen for the soft lips of Raymond Reddington.  
Nothing could have prepared Raymond Reddington for the sweet taste of Elizabeth Keen.

Red gently cupped her face before he moved one hand to her neck and the other to her waist, bringing her body flush against his. He felt her relax under his touch; she felt his lips curve into a smile when she finally returned the kiss. Deepened it. Her hands clasping the fabric of his coat.

Drawing back was merely a precaution. If he didn't break the kiss now, he would never be able to stop.

They were both breathing heavily.

"What do you feel now, Lizzie?"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I'm overwhelmed by all your kind reviews. This is the final chapter of this story but don't worry, I already have some other fics planned out. Please review. But most importantly, enjoy.**

Lyrics are from Pearl Jam's "Just Breathe" (Fun fact: This song has always been one of my absolute favorites and I basically freaked out when they used it in the finale. And during what a scene, too.)

* * *

Shock. That had been the first. Then astonishment. Wonder.

Relief. _It's not just me then_. Desire. Longing. Always more and more and more. So _this is how addiction starts. _Pleasure and thrill and defeat and anxiety and exuberance.

And finally loss. The instant he had pulled away. The instant his lips had left hers.

Raymond Reddington's kiss had triggered an avalanche of emotions.

_What do you feel now, Lizzie?_

She had felt love.

_Did I say that I want you?  
Did I say that I need you?_

He hadn't planned this. Had fantasized about it in the secluded corners of his mind. Had irrationally wished for it. Dreamed about it even. But he hadn't planned this.

Raymond Reddington didn't lose control. Raymond Reddington didn't succumb to his impulses.  
But her closeness was intoxicating and her eyes were wistful and he was weak.

So he had kissed her. And she had responded.

And when he had finally pulled away and noticed the look on her face, he was certain. _It's not just me then._

And Lizzie had whispered, "Let's go home."

_Nothing you would take  
Everything you gave_

The crackling sounds of the fireplace encircled them; the soft cushions of the hazel leather couch enticed them to unwind. They sat close to each other, hands entwined. Exhausted, but awake. Once again silent. No words could have satisfactorily captured the events of the night. Their feelings. Their expectations.

The car ride back to the mansion had been uneventful, mostly. Liz had observed the passing city lights and Red had watched her out of the corner of his eye. _He wouldn't let her out of his sight_.

Neither had mentioned the kiss. Both had hoped for another.

_The two of us have overcome so much._

"May I see them?" Liz's voice was barely audible, but echoed through the room nonetheless. Red flinched. Let go of her hand.

A question, at last. Yet not the one he was prepared for.

There would be no going back after this. She would insist on an explanation. And he would offer it and live with the consequences.  
He owed her the truth.

Once again he was facing the prospect of Elizabeth Keen leaving and it scared him to death.

_You can turn away and run from it. You can hide from it. And if you choose to do that, I'll fly away. Or you can face it, confront it. Engage it. And maybe- maybe prevail and rise above it._

With his eyes fixed on the ceasing flames in front of him- _oh, sweet irony_- he began dismantling the armor. His vest and tie. Finally, his shirt. Button after button. The white fabric hanging loosely over his shoulders now. He turned around.

"Go ahead."

Liz moved closer and carefully pulled the shirt off his back. Inhaled deeply. Prepared herself.

Her trembling fingers hovered over his short hair, the crook of his neck, his right shoulder. And paused. Red kept still.

Waited.  
Anticipated.

When he finally sensed her breath on his burned skin, he felt shivers running down his spine. Felt his scars mend at the touch of her fingertips. Intimacy.

Liz explored every inch of the scarred flesh. Details, patterns. Every dent a revelation, every contact an apology. She could feel the intense throbbing in her wrist. A connection.

And then it stopped.

Why she had decided to walk down the hall towards Raymond Reddington's bedroom in the middle of the night was finally clear to her.

_Under everything  
Just another human being_

The first time she had laid eyes on him he had been handcuffed to a chair. And she had been intrigued.

He had called her "Lizzie". She had corrected him. And he had smiled.

The first time she had laid eyes on him he had been Number Four on the Most Wanted List. And nothing more.

Now she was tracing the outlines of his pain and posing the inevitable question.

"You saved me?"  
Silence.  
"Red, did _you_ save me?"  
"Yes."

And she felt the room spinning and her world crumbling. Saw him turn. Looked into his worried eyes and ran her hand across his pensive features. Leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his- just the ghost of a kiss- and got up from the couch.

_Stay with me  
Let's just breathe_

Life could have ended there and then. Red wouldn't have objected. But he was still alive, maybe more than ever, and he watched her walk down the hall. Reflected. And finally followed. She could never fully grasp the power she had over him.

He found her standing in the middle of his bedroom. Determined, expectant. And he began to wonder.

Maybe this was always supposed to happen. Maybe it had all led up to this. From the moment Red had surrendered the first time, to their dinner in Montreal, their handholding on the bench, the attack on the blacksite, his sacrifice, her pleading, his escape and return, her red dress, their dance in the embassy, the music box, to Red surrendering the second time.

_Fate._

She was _still_ here with him. In spite of his wrongdoings. In spite of his flaws. Of his sins.  
All of his doubts vanished into thin air. All questions disappeared. She was all that mattered.

Liz was watching him. Tried to read his thoughts.  
Didn't miss the twitch under his left eye. Didn't miss the flash of lust in his gaze.

And she took off her shirt and he took in the stunning vision that was Elizabeth Keen and the black lace and her glowing skin and he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

One step.  
Two steps.  
All distance gone.

And he kissed her with all the desire in the world. Picked her up. _I have you_. And lowered her to the bed.

Surrendered.

**-THE END-**


End file.
